


Bank On It

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for daily-crisscolfer-prompt 67: Chris and Darren meet walking down the hall at a sperm bank. Darren is donating for cash and Chris is donating because a friend asked for him to be the dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bank On It

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to Luckie and Mav for hand-holding and beta-reading. <3

“So this is ridiculous, isn’t it?” 

Chris doesn’t even realize that the guy is talking to him at first. It takes a few seconds, until he gets that heavy prickling sensation that comes with being stared at. 

He looks up from his clipboard. “What?” 

“This.” The guy holds up his own clipboard. They’re the only two people in the tiny waiting room. He’s actually not sure why the guy chose to sit beside him and not the respectably anti-social distance of at least a few chairs away. “It’s kind of bullshit. Like, fuck, do they want a history of every case of the sniffles anyone in the last five generations of my family has had?” 

“Uh,” Chris answers. 

“I mean, check this out.” The guy reads from his paperwork, as if Chris isn’t currently filling out forms that are exactly identical. “ _Are you now taking, or have you ever taken pituitary-derived human growth hormones?_ Like, what?”

“Actually, I think that’s valid,” Chris says. “I’d want to know if the potential parent of my child had taken human growth hormones.”

“I don’t even know what human growth hormones are,” the guy admits. “But what about this one? _I have had a sexual encounter with someone whose sexual background I am unsure of_. They might as well be asking if you breathe.” 

“Well,” Chris says. “I haven’t.” 

“Oh.” The guy looks at him. “This is awkward.” 

“Yep,” Chris says. “I’m gonna go back to filling out my paperwork now. Is that alright?” 

“... yeah, I’m gonna just. Do that, too.” 

The only sound between them is the scratch of pen on paper. Chris focuses on the questions. The guy is right; they are insanely invasive and Chris feels more than a little uncomfortable even knowing that the only people that will see them will be sperm bank administrators and his best friends. 

Actually, no, that doesn’t make him feel better. He’s not sure he needs Lauren or Julia knowing such a detailed history of his in any regard. Especially not Lauren. She only has a passing acquaintance with tact in the best of situations. 

At least he can check no on the organ transplant question without worry. 

He’s making good progress when one of the staff steps into the room. “Darren Criss? We’re ready for your interview right now.” 

Chris looks over at the guy beside him, who suddenly looks alarmed. “Interview?” 

“Yes,” the girl says. Her plastic nametag reads Janice. “You’ll interview with the clinic administrator before we collect your preliminary samples for study. The whole process is in the paperwork, did you not get that sheet?”

“I don’t think so,” Darren says. “Um, must be missing.” 

Chris glances at his clipboard. The paper explaining the process is right on top. He rolls his eyes. 

Darren shuffles the stuff around. “I’m almost done filling them out.” 

“All right,” Janice says, with more patience than Chris would be able to muster in her position. “I’ll come check back with you in five minutes.” 

As soon as she’s gone, Darren crumples the instructions up and plays trash can basketball with it. 

He misses. 

Chris snickers, and then immediately focuses back on his own forms. He’s embarrassed because there’s no way Darren didn’t hear that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Darren whispers, nudging Chris’s foot on his way. “Laugh it up.” 

Darren has to get up to collect his wayward paper ball from the floor and then takes his seat beside Chris again, flipping to a new page. Chris gets distracted filling in his immediate family history and tunes Darren out until he realizes that Darren is steadily leaning in his direction. 

“What are you doing?” Chris yanks his clipboard up to his chest, glaring over at a suddenly shifty-eyed man. “You can’t _cheat_ on this.” 

“I just wasn’t sure what this one meant!” Darren says, giving Chris a wide-eyed look that Chris is already fairly certain - despite knowing absolutely nothing about this man - has gotten him most anything he’d want in life. 

“So you were going to just lean over and _look at mine_?” Chris very pointedly gets up and moves two seats down. 

He goes back to filling out his paternal grandparents’ history and makes it two minutes without looking up before curiosity wins. 

Ouch. No. He shouldn’t have looked up. Darren has the poutiest expression on his face, and it’s unfair because this guy is actually cute. Not Chris’s usual type, but… endearing, sort of. Chris starts to feel bad. 

“What did you not understand?” Chris asks. 

Darren immediately perks up. “What does percutaneous inoculation mean?” 

“You know you could have just googled that,” Chris says. “That’s what I did.” 

“So you do know!,” Darren points out. “Why should we both do the work?” 

“Through a needle,” Chris says. “It means through a needle. Or a cut or something.” 

Chris has already googled it. 

“Oh, awesome! Not awesome. But, thanks.” Darren bends back over his paperwork and seems to have just finished when Janice comes back. 

“Ready now?” She asks. 

“Yep.” Darren gets to his feet. He’s shorter than Chris expected. “And I just wanted to say thanks so much for giving me an extra few minutes. Hopefully you used that little break to do something fun, like an epic round of Minesweeper. I mean, not to judge, but you have the look of an epic Minesweeper player. ” 

Chris watches in amazement as the irritation melts from Janice’s face, to be replaced with an almost giddy expression. 

“I do okay,” she says, a coy grin on her face. “Come on, I’ll show you to the interview room.” 

And with that, Chris is left alone with his paperwork. 

*

His interview goes well, even as strangely nervous as Chris is through it. It’s not like he really thinks he’ll be rejected for anything. He’s only here because someone already wants what he has to offer. Not only do they want it, but they’re actually counting on it. 

Julia and Lauren have done far too much for Chris since he found himself in Chicago for him to turn his back on them now. It’s not like having a kid without help is biologically possible for them. 

Chris hadn’t really wanted to say yes when they first approached him about it, but it was obvious from the start that they put a lot of thought into who to ask. They put themselves out there for him and he hadn’t had it in him to turn them down right off the bat. 

He’d asked for a week or two to think about it, and a strange thing happened over those couple of weeks: he began to actually like the idea. 

He isn’t sure that kids are really in his future. He’s only been in one serious relationship and kids hadn’t even been a question. Maybe that was a sign that all along he’d known The Ex wasn’t going to be his happily ever after, but he’d never once considered the idea of settling down and having any kind of family with The Ex. 

But he doesn’t hate the idea of there being a kid out there, a kid that’s part his that he has little to no responsibility for. Lauren and Julia were more than generous in their offer. Paperwork will make them the legal and official parents, but Chris is welcome to be as much or little a figure in the child’s life as he chooses. He could come for birthdays, could take the kid on weekend trips, could be the doting Uncle or just a guy that did Mommy and Mommy a favor and helped them have a family. 

Julia and Lauren will be _amazing_ mothers, and as for him - well, Uncle Chris sounds like it has a great ring to it. 

“Mr. Colfer?” Janice opens the door halfway and peers through. “If you’d like to follow me? I’ll explain a few things as we go.” 

The explanations are predictably embarrassing and uncomfortable, but she’s very matter of fact about it. Most of the process is about as self-explanatory as it gets, and he knows to put the stuff in the cup and the cup in the bag and is told no less than half a dozen times to use the Clorox wipes to thoroughly clean the area when he’s finished. 

He goes ahead and uses them to thoroughly clean it before he even starts. It doesn’t exactly help to wipe the idea from his mind that he’s about to masturbate where countless other men have masturbated before, but at least he can tell himself it’s sanitary. 

Probably more sanitary than the last club he was at, actually, but there’s no six-foot-two bartender with sculpted muscles offering him an amaretto sour to ease the way this time. It’s just him, a warm sterile room, and a bookshelf full of mediocre heterosexual porn that holds absolutely no interest for him. There’s a basket of single use mineral oil packets beside it, a bluntly worded sign instructing how (and how not) to use it, and a trash can with a swinging lid. 

He washes his hands again. 

Being acutely aware of how much time has passed and that people are waiting on him doesn’t help his sudden case of nerves. He forces himself to breathe steadily and then heaves a huge sigh and undoes his pants, tugging out his soft dick. 

Performance anxiety has never been a problem for him before. It won’t be now, he tells himself. He’ll just… lay back and think of England. 

Or that six-foot-two bartender with the sculpted muscles. 

There are surfaces to sit on, but awareness that other people sit on them too keeps him standing. He does lean one hand against the counter (where he’s just disinfected) and starts to squeeze his dick in a rhythmic pattern, trying to encourage a hard on. 

Bar guy. Bar guy dancing with him. Bar guy grinding on him. Bar guy leading him back to some mysteriously convenient and hotel-worthy back room of the bar where the sheets were crisp and clean and Bar Guy could lay him out and maybe lick and bite him all over before sucking on his balls and… 

Laughing? Yep. From the hallway, he hears laughter. Chris’s eyes fly open. His cock immediately starts to soften again. He curses and tugs harder. He doesn’t want to have to start back over from scratch. 

That laugh is ever so slightly familiar, and it takes him a few seconds to place it as the guy from before - Darren. 

Darren must be finished with _his_ little one on one session. Chris flushes warmly at the intimacy of the thought, that the guy he’s just hearing - the laugh he’s just hearing - is warmly post-orgasmic. 

Huh. Well. 

Apparently that does something for Chris. 

The walls are thick enough that he can’t make out any actual words but he can hear the steady low hum of a voice intercut with that same laughter, slightly louder. He lets his eyes shut again and licks his lips, chasing the thread of arousal that came with thinking of Darren getting off in a room just like this. 

No, Darren wasn’t really his _type_ , but type or no there’s something erotic about knowing someone else has just performed a sexual act. It’s the same feeling he gets watching two guys leave the same bathroom stall; it’s not attraction to them exactly, just attraction to the voyeuristic aspect of what they just did and having been witness to it. 

Not that Darren was all that bad to look at. Good hair, nice and curly, perfect for just grabbing a fistful of… and lips, pink lips, Chris noticed that. He’s got a thing for blowjobs - well, most guys probably have a thing for blowjobs, fine - but he’s got a thing for blowjob mouths. He loves to just drag his dick over swollen red lips and watch the precome gloss over them. He loves when a guy is just desperate to suck and begs to have his mouth fucked… 

Darren would beg. Chris knows with toe-curling certainty, or at least knows that in his fantasy-mind that fantasy-guy would beg and he’d be so _pretty_ while he did it, on his knees and whining, maybe hands behind his back - not tied up, Chris isn’t really into that whole tying people up thing, but it’s hot when a guy puts his hands behind his back because he just wants to. He’d let Chris use him and then maybe whisper _can I_ … before grabbing his own dick… 

Chris is reaching for the little plastic cup much sooner than he’d really anticipated he’d need it. It’s strange to have to hold and position the container but it’s not like jerking off one-handed is all that unfamiliar to him, so he finds his groove again quickly. 

The voices in the hallway fade out but it’s the memory of that happy little laughter that rocks through him as he splatters semen into the cup. 

*

A week later, Chris is back at the clinic to drop off his second donation. 

He’s been in the waiting area for five minutes when the same guy from the week before walks in. 

“Hey, man!” Darren greets him like they’re long-lost buddies. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Well, we both had to come back in after seven days,” Chris points out. He’s trying very hard not to think about the fact that he jerked off thinking about this guy a week ago. “So it’s not that much of a coincidence.” 

Darren drops into the seat beside Chris. “Yeah, but we still could have been ships passing in the night. What’s your name, anyway? I didn’t catch it last time.”

“Chris. Colfer.” 

“Chris Colfer- oh, shit, you write books, don’t you?” Darren’s face lights up. “My ex used to _love_ your stuff. You do those like, twisted fairy tale modern adaption horror stories, don’t you? I haven’t read them, but yeah, she fucking loved them. Had the whole series.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Chris admits. It’s kind of awkward but fun to encounter fans in public, but situations like this, where the person isn’t a fan but has just heard of him? It’s extra strange. He’s never entirely sure what to say. _I’m touched that you didn’t read my life’s work?_

He wants to at least pretend to be smoother than that.

“You should totally sell the rights. I’d watch the shit out of that,” Darren says. “That one about Hansel and Gretel? The cover almost gave me nightmares.” 

“I just like to take elements from the original stories,” Chris says. “It always makes me laugh when people talk about plot twists in my books, because they’re actually fairly predictable if you’re familiar with the original German stories.” 

“Whoa, so sweet little gramma is actually-” 

“A cannibal,” Chris says, nodding. 

“And she really-” 

“Ate the kids.” Chris smirks at the look on Darren’s face. 

“Cannibalistic kiddie-eating witches in candy houses. No wonder you’re making bank on those.” 

“Though maybe we shouldn’t talk about my penchant for writing about child murder in the place where I’m donating my potential future children?” Chris suggests. 

Darren laughs out loud. “Uh, I do see your point there, okay.” 

There’s silence. Canned music floats through the room, easy to tune out while they’re talking but suddenly annoyingly present in the moments in-between. 

“So.” Darren rocks his foot back and forth against the carpet. “What your story here?” 

“Uh… it’s personal?” Chris says. 

“So….” 

“So I’m not telling you.” Chris suddenly misses the paperwork from the week before. It might have been a small novel but it gave him something to do. 

“Well, I’m just here for the dolla’ bills,” Darren tells him. 

“Don’t you have to wait like a year to even get paid?” Chris asks. He’s not doing this for money but he still read the forms all the same, and he knows the sperm bank holds the checks in escrow until they verify that the samples are still viable. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Darren had skimmed over that part, too. Chris is never one to shy away from a snap judgement, and Darren looks like that kind of guy - the one who doesn’t pay attention when he’s supposed to and just counts on the fact that people will explain it to him again when he actually needs to know. 

“Yeah, but it’s cool,” Darren says. “I want to go on this epic European backpacking trip so I figure if I do this for a year… that’ll be a fucking sweet check I get at the end.” 

Backpacking in Europe. Yeah, he looks like _that_ type, too. 

“I’m doing it for friends,” Chris says. “They needed a donor.” 

“Wow. Damn. I’m impressed.” Darren gives him a look of genuine admiration. “That’s like… selfless, you know?” 

Chris shrugs. He’s not comfortable talking about it with anyone except Julia and Lauren. He’s barely comfortable talking about it with them. “It’s not like it requires a lot from me.” 

“Sure it does,” Darren insists. “Giving up part of yourself to help make a new life, to give people that want it that gift.” 

“I guess,” Chris says. He shifts in his chair. 

“You guess?” Darren asks. “I mean, it’s a pretty big deal to sound so unsure.” 

“It’s none of your _business_ , is it?” Chris snaps. 

Darren looks at him, then looks down. “Yeah. Guess not.” 

A few seconds later Chris sees him get his phone out of his pocket. No more words pass between them until Janice shows up. This time she calls for Chris first, and Chris finds himself relieved. 

 

*

Chris isn’t expecting Darren to still be there when he comes out of his little room. He’s definitely not expecting Darren to be _right there_ , loitering in the hallway. Chris is still wiping his freshly washed hands on his pants and is acutely aware of what he’s just done. He can also see from the look on Darren’s face that Darren is also experiencing awareness of the acute variety. 

“Uh,” Chris says. 

“Everything um, come out okay?” Darren asks, a little _heh heh_ kind of laugh following it. 

Chris rolls his eyes but the familiar annoyance is actually reassuring, serving to break the ice. “Oh, shut up. I could ask you the same thing.” 

“You could,” Darren agrees. “And I’d answer you.” 

“I don’t-” 

“It was okay. I mean like, four out of ten? Not my best work, but the whole…” He waves a hand around. “Clinic room thing, it’s kind of a buzzkill, you know? I mean, you _would_ know. Unless you have some kind of medical fetish, which, okay, no judgement-” 

“I do not have a medical fetish!” Chris really hopes he isn’t turning red. 

He also realizes belatedly that maybe he said that a little too loudly. Janice walks by them, giving him a slightly dirty look. 

Chris wants to sink into a puddle on the floor. Darren is trying desperately not to lose himself laughing. 

“I hate you,” Chris slumps against the wall with his hands over his face, fighting a smile himself. “I don’t know you, but I hate you.” 

Darren grins. “Why don’t you get to know me before you decide that?” 

“I - what?” Chris spreads his fingers so he can see Darren through them. 

Darren reaches out and grabs one of his hands ( _fuck he just jerked off fuck so did Darren fuck why is it so distracting why he can’t he stop thinking about jerking off-_ ) and a pen out of his other pocket. Darren uses his teeth to uncap it and then the cool metal tip is pressing ink onto Chris’s skin. 

It’s his phone number. 

Darren carefully finishes writing it and then says, “I think you’re cute, and you must be an awesome person to do what you’re doing for your friends. So here is my number, and if you’re interested in getting together sometime… give me a call.” 

“I…” Chris forces himself into something resembling normalcy. “Okay.” 

Darren grins at him and then walks backwards down the hallway, only almost toppling one cart on his way out. 

*

“Call him,” Lauren says immediately, the words out of her mouth as soon as Chris sits down across from her at the cafe. “Whatever straight up baller just wrote his number on your hand like this is 1990.” 

“How do you even know-” 

Lauren ignores him and continues. “Unless he’s ugly, but I know you, he would not have penetrated that personal space bubble unless you let him. So he must be cute, and you should call him.” 

Chris lets her finish talking. “Hi, Lauren, it’s so great to see you again, too. Oh, I know, you want to hear all about the appointment and you have so much to fill me in on with your consultations-” 

“It’s like you’re trying to make a point about my social graces,” Lauren says. “I ordered you a water and a chemical sugar death concoction.” 

“Diet, right?” 

“Of course diet,” Lauren says, rolling her eyes. “I do know you, Colfer. Now: tell me.” 

“About the appointment?” 

“No, about Hottie McTottie with the flirting.” 

“It wasn’t like that. Okay, it was, but I don’t know if I’m going to even call him. I’ve got a lot going on right now,” Chris says. 

“Like what? Your newest book came out like two days ago.” 

“It was a month ago, and I already have more deadlines. Plus, they want to fly me out so I can earn that bullshit script supervisor title on the movie adaptation.” 

“Okay, you can write a book zonked out on Ambien and it’ll still hit the New York Times best seller list because people love terrifying children and creepy shit and you are fucking talented. Your mind is a horrible place, etc. And booking a flight takes five minutes, and I _know_ you are not planning on going anywhere in the next week because you are needed here for emotional support in these trying times of attempted procreation.” In the middle of Lauren’s rant, Julia shows up. She leans down to kiss Lauren on the cheek without interrupting the word flow. “Hi, sweetie.” 

“Are you terrorizing the biological father of our future offspring?” she asks, smiling at Chris.

“No,” Lauren says. 

At the same time Chris says, “Yes.” 

It’s right around that moment that Julia notices his hand. She whistles low. “Someone works fast.” 

“How do you know it’s fast?” Chris pauses to take his drinks from the waitress. He ignores the water in favor of the Diet Coke. He then ignores Lauren pushing the water back closer to him. “Maybe I met him a while ago.” 

“Nah,” Julia says, taking her own juice. Chris knows for a fact that in private she will down a root beer like no one’s business, but he does understand (theoretically, at least) that concessions must be made when the one you love is a health nut. Or a health fruitloop, as Chris likes to call her. “Lauren would have known. She’s like a bloodsniffing hound when it comes to people around her getting laid.” 

Lauren gives Julia a dopey smile. “You say the sweetest things, sugartits.” 

“Don’t,” Julia says back. 

“Fine, fine.” Lauren redirects her attention back to Chris. “So who is he, what’s he like, is he packing?” 

“A guy, annoying, and I don’t know.” Chris pauses, then adds. “Yet.” 

“Yet!” Lauren beams at him. “Colfer gonna ge-eh-eh-t him some.” 

“As long as you do it in the next four days,” Julia adds. “Because you can’t have any sexual activity for three days leading up to your next emission.” 

“Annnnd, the mood is down.” Lauren makes a sad game show type noise. 

“One of us has to face the cold hard sexless reality,” Julia reminds her. 

“Cold hard sexless reality,” Chris repeats. “Yep, you’re definitely describing my social life.” 

“Well,” Julia says, a little bit of her own mischievous humor peeking out. She nods down at his hand. “Maybe not for too much longer.” 

*

Chris waits three more days before he calls Darren, and when he does the first thing Darren says to him is, “I thought you weren’t gonna call. Why’d you wait so long?” 

And Chris is caught completely off guard because the only reason he waited is because he didn’t want to seem too eager, but to say that out loud would be to redefine the laws of cliched behavior. 

Chris tries to never be a cliche. “I was busy. Work. Working.” 

“I mean, I guess that’s allowed.” Darren muffles the phone and Chris can hear him shouting something. “So, you decide you want to go out?” 

“On a date?” Chris asks. Past experience has taught him to verify. There’s nothing like thinking you’re going on a date only to realize that the guy hadn’t even realized you were gay. Reassuring on the front of being treated like a person and not a walking sexual preference, not so reassuring on the front of wanting to get laid. 

“Yeah, on a date,” Darren says. “With me, in case you were wondering about that, too.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Chris laughs this time. “Sarcasm won’t get you into my pants.” 

“Au contraire, Mr. Colfer,” Darren says. “I’ve been doing a little light reading while I pathetically waited by the phone. I think you’ve got a finely fucking honed appreciation for sarcasm.” 

“Oh, god. Which one?” 

“ _Clever Elsie_ ,” Darren says. “And I am man enough to admit it kept me up at night. Your fucking _brain_ , dude. Your brain.” 

“I did maybe go a little overboard with the pick-axe imagery in that one,” Chris admits. 

“But it wasn’t even that part,” Darren says. “It was the bells that got to me - like, _shit_. That was a mindfuck.” 

“And you still actually want to go out with me?” Chris checks. 

“Are you kidding? It takes a genius to pull that kind of story off and have it still feel like it means something. The way you weave in the moral ambiguity and the way a mother fears for her child - along with the scary as fuck parts? It’s amazing. I want to buy you a drink _right fucking now_ if you let me.” 

Darren is not the first person to try and use flattery of his books to get Chris into bed. But a drink isn’t bed, and Chris is victim to the same egotistical needs as any other human being. “Well, I am free right now…” 

“Great. Can you be to meet me in like twenty minutes? I know the perfect place, I can text you the address.” 

It’s happening much faster than Chris had imagined, but right now he wants to see where this goes. Ten minutes later he finds himself heading toward a bar that he’s actually already been to a couple of times. Lauren - one of the first friends he’d made in Chicago - had set out to forge a social life for Chris like it was her new mission in life, and that included dragging him out to the occasional bar when she decided he’d been holed up in his room writing for too many days in a row. 

Chris still isn’t really the bar-hopping type but it’s four in the afternoon on a Friday so he doesn’t think it’ll be crowded to any kind of anxiety-building extent. 

He’s right; when he gets there it’s only about a quarter full. The place looks entirely different by light of day, too. The walls are visible and there’s only a soft chatter of voices, not the dull roar underlined with thumping music that he’s accustomed to. 

He spots Darren talking to the bartender. He unwinds the scarf from his neck and shrugs his jacket off, damp from the drizzle outside. Chris may also be buying himself a few minutes just to observe Darren in a new light, a date-worthy light. 

Darren _is_ cute. Yeah, he might not be tall, well-muscled, and work behind a bar, but he’s got a warm smile and a laugh that makes Chris want to laugh too. He’s charismatic as fuck and he doesn’t seem to have any overt flaws besides a habit of asking too-personal questions in offbeat but strangely intimate settings. 

“Chris, hey!” Darren half-turns on his barstool to greet Chris. He’s wearing an olive green henley that stretches nicely over his shoulder with the motion, and yeah, Chris could grow to appreciate that, too. “You made it. Didn’t get lost?” 

“No, I’ve actually been here before.” Chris slides onto the stool beside Darren. “Some friends of mine come now and then.” 

“I ended up in Chicago with some of my old college friends. This used to be one of our haunts.” 

“Used to be?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah.” Darren shrugs. “I mean, I guess it still is, but you know how life goes. You stay close to some people, drift away from some… we get together a few times a year though. It’s not a bad thing. I was kind of lucky that college was such an awesome time in my life.”

“Yeah?” Chris asks. “I didn’t go to college.” 

“How’d you wind up here then?” Darren asks. “Oh, what do you want to drink?” 

“Jack and coke?” Chris asks the bartender, who gives him a nod. “Age-old story. I followed an ex, and six months later we were done.” 

“Ouch.” Darren frowns sympathetically. “I ended up here after LA was a bust.” 

“What do you do?” Chris asks. 

“Actor, musician.” Darren waves a hand around. “I give guitar and piano lessons to pay the bills right now.” 

“Among other things.” Chris lifts an eyebrow. 

It takes Darren a moment to get it. He grins. “Among other things.” 

“Well, you’re in the right town for acting and music. I mean, it’s not LA or New York…” 

“But I like it,” Darren says. “I like the vibe. It’s a little more mellow.” 

“Where are you from originally?” Chris asks. 

“California.” 

“Oh! Me, too. Fresno.” 

“Awesome, awesome. San Francisco here.” 

“I could have actually guessed,” Chris says. Now that he knows to look for it he senses the flower child aura emanating from Darren. “Peace, love, pot?” 

“It’s like we’re on the same wavelength already.” 

Chris takes a sip of his newly arrived drink. “So this happened fast.” 

“Are you kidding? It took you three days to call me. That’s like a lifetime.” 

“Only if you have a melodramatic streak.” 

“Actor. Musician.” Darren points to himself. 

“Oh, right. I guess you got me there.” Chris laughs. “But three days isn’t really that long.” 

“Only if you exist in a some kind of warped dimension where hours pass like minutes.” 

“Writer.” Chris points to himself. “I kind of do. I sit down at my computer and I kind of forget the rest of the world even exists.” 

“You’re not one of those hipsters rocking it old school with an actual typewriter?” Darren asks. “For some reason, I would have pegged you as the type.” 

“I have one,” Chris admits. “But it’s mostly for decoration. Backspace is a bitch on vintage Underwood.” 

“Well, those word processor inventor guys did know what they were doing.” Darren finishes his own drink. He doesn’t seem to have waited on Chris to get started. Chris isn’t sure if that was to grease the wheels of first date nerves or if he just likes to drink. 

Chris is more the type of guy to pace himself. He never learned the art of holding his liquor like some of his peers. He always tells people it’s because he missed out on that college experience, though he can’t say he’s all that sad to have. 

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” Darren says. 

“Oh yeah? You’re an expert after one book?” 

“I’m a quick study.” 

“I look forward to finding out how true that is,” Chris says. 

There’s a moment of charged silence between them, both slightly smiling. 

For the next two hours they talk. 

Not just talking but _talking_ , the conversation weaving through backgrounds and childhoods and hopes and dreams and Chris can practically feel his hesitations melting away. He’s more than happy to ignore the rest of the world in favor of listening to Darren talk about his short-lived career as a guest star on a CW show. Darren seems just as interested in listening to Chris talk about how he wanted to be an actor when he was a kid but high school auditions never went anywhere, how he met a boy his first two weeks of junior college and spent a year with him. 

He’s disappointed when Darren looks at his phone and sighs the familiar sigh of someone about to announce they have to leave. 

“You have to go,” Chris says, wanting to spare them both the polite dismissal that’s coming. 

“A friend of mine has this show tomorrow and he wants me to play a couple sets with him, so I need to get by the rehearsal.” 

“So professional,” Chris says, leaning in and smiling a little. He’s distracted by the show comment, wondering if maybe… 

“Yeah, well. We try to keep it from being a total shitshow. I mean, we aim for no more than half a shitshow.” Darren laughs. He finishes off his drink and then gives Chris another look. Chris starts to get excited, focusing all of his mental concentration on the question he wants to hear, as if the thought might somehow transfer. “So, hey… are you free tomorrow night?” 

“I don’t think so,” Chris says, teasing a little. His confidence is boosted by the way Darren immediately looks disappointed. “This guy told me about half a shitshow that I might want to check out.” 

The disappointment is gone in a heartbeat. “Well, you wouldn’t want to miss out on that. Sounds delightfully mediocre.” 

“I think you’re half right,” Chris says. 

“Mediocre?” 

“Of course.” Chris stands when Darren does. “Though the eye candy will make up for it.” 

“Why, Christopher.” Darren puts a hand over his heart. “Are you objectifying me?” 

“Do you mind?” Chris asks, eyes skirting down to Darren’s ass. The alcohol and generally promising overtone of the date has left him feeling bold. 

“Not at all.” Darren presses in close to Chris as they walk out, arms touching through their light jackets. It’s only in the fifties but the still drizzling rain makes it feel colder. “What direction you headed in?” 

“I walked, but it isn’t that far,” Chris says. He gestures vaguely down the street. “I just live about fifteen minutes that way.” 

“You’re walking? But it’s raining, man.” Darren grabs Chris by the arm. “My bud’s picking me up, we can give you a ride.” 

“Are you sure?” Chris asks, but a little Nissan that’s probably seen better days pulls up to the sidewalk. 

“Yep. I’m sure. Come on.” Darren opens the back door, since there are already two people in the front. He leans forward to tousle the hair of the guy in the passenger seat. “Aw, cute, Dyl brought the trash with him.”

“Fucker,” the guy says, ducking away. “Don’t mess up my goddamn hair. And learn some manners. Who’s your friend?” 

“Like you even know what manners are.” Darren leans back again. “This is Chris. We’re gonna drop him off., if that’s cool? Chris, this is Dylan and Joe.” 

“Chris!” Dylan has a booming voice but a friendly smile. “You sing? Or play any instruments? Because if you’re any good we can totally replace Darren tomorrow.” 

“Oh, god, no,” Chris says, laughing. “You don’t want to hear me sing. I think I gave my high school voice teacher nightmares.” 

“What? No way, I bet you’re good,” Darren says, buckling his seatbelt but then leaning in as far as he can toward Chris. 

“Where to?” Dylan asks, turning around to glance at Chris. “Or are we really are kidnapping you?” 

“We could,” Darren says, checking with Chris. “Unless you’ve got something else to do. You could come sit in on the rehearsal?” 

if this situation were posed to him as a hypothetical Chris would come up with any and every excuse to not end up in a place he’s never been with people he doesn’t know, but right now he’s riding the adrenaline high that comes with a successful social outing and he feels like pushing his limits. 

“Sure,” he says, and it’s entirely worth it for the smile Darren gives him… and the fact that a couple minutes later Darren nudges his fingers against Chris’s then takes his hand. 

*

No one else seems to care that Darren is treating the rehearsal as an extension of their date, so Chris lets himself shrug off the slight awkwardness that sets in once they’re hanging out in Dylan’s basement-turned-performance area. 

Darren’s only joining them for two songs of the set, so they spend most of it just… watching the show. Chris is surprised at how much he genuinely likes the kind of music that they’re doing, and he’s even more surprised - and relieved - when Darren settles in front of the mic like that’s where he was born to be. 

One hurdle overcome: there won’t be any awkward faking of appreciation for his talent. At least not until they get in bed together, but Chris… he has high hopes. 

Once he’s finished with his part of the run through, Darren rejoins Chris on the couch and settles in close, slinging an arm casually over the cushion. Chris cuts his eyes to Darren’s hand, just resting there, and then back at him. “I hope you don’t think that was smooth.” 

“Nah,” Darren says, that shit-eating grin firmly in place. “You seem like the type who’d see right through any move, so why bother with the coy act?” 

He drops the arm down so that it’s actually over Chris’s shoulders, fingers just touching under the short sleeve of Chris’s shirt. Their jackets are draped over the back of a rickety kitchen chair by the door. 

Chris wants to keep up the sarcastic banter, but he really can’t in the face of how nice it feels to be tucked right up against Darren. Now when they trade commentary and conversation they whisper it back and forth, sometimes so close that their noses brush. His stomach begins to swoop and twist with the anticipation of what this is surely leading to. 

He hasn’t felt this way on a date in a while. 

By the time the rehearsal is over, it’s stopped raining outside. “You want to get out of here? Maybe go for a walk?” Darren asks Chris. Dylan and Joe are talking to a couple of the other guys that showed up. 

“Where?” Chris asks, but he’s already grabbing for his coat. It’s too far to walk back to his place, but he can always grab a cab… if he doesn’t end up with an invitation that trumps his lonely bed. 

“I don’t know. Go for a coffee or something?” Darren asks. 

“I don’t drink coffee,” Chris says. 

Darren laughs. “I don’t either.” 

“Idiot,” Chris says fondly. “What about ice cream?” 

“I definitely do ice cream,” Darren says. He turns around and shouts to Dylan. “Hey, we’re outta here, losers. See you tomorrow night!” 

“Don’t oversleep!” Dylan shouts back. 

“Didn’t you say you weren’t going on until eight?” Chris asks. 

“Um.” Darren sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. “I keep weird hours sometimes.” 

“Which is code for he’s a lazy asshole,” Joe says, ducking around Chris to get his own jacket. “Nice meeting you, man. You’re too good for him - but come check out the show tomorrow anyway.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” Chris says. 

He looks back to Darren, waiting for him with a smile on his face. “Shall we?” 

“We shall,” Chris says. This time he’s the one to take Darren’s hand. 

Outside, it’s warmer than Chris expected.

“So,” Darren says, swinging their hands between them a little. “Ice cream? Still sound good?” 

“I’m the one that suggested it,” Chris reminds him. 

“You know.” Darren clears his throat. “I have ice cream at my place.” 

Chris grins a little. “That so?” 

“And it’s not too far away.” 

“But I like toppings,” Chris says. “Those little gummy worms. And chocolate chips. And strawberries! I bet you don’t have all of those.” 

“Not _all_ of them… but hey, look!” Darren pulls him sharply to the left and into a little market. “A store that conveniently sells all of those items listed.” 

“Well, I guess I have no excuses left,” Chris says.

“You sure?” Darren actually looks surprised. “I mean - no pressure.” 

Chris grins. “I know. And I’m sure.” 

*

Ice cream sundaes are good, but making out on Darren’s couch with cold lips and warm hands is even better. 

In the middle of what Chris thinks is actually a pretty spectacular portion of the making out process, all lips and tongue and finding the right rhythm, Darren suddenly starts to laugh. 

“What?” Chris asks, breathless and a little offended. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Darren kisses him again apologetically. “I was just thinking - this is good timing.” 

“Um,” Chris says, then just waits, because surely there’s more to it than that. 

“Just - the clinic paperwork. You can’t get off less than three days before an appointment, and this is Thursday so if we waited until tomorrow night and things got heated…” Darren trails off and lets Chris put that one together. 

Which Chris does, quickly. Each time he’s seen Darren in the clinic, it’s been on a Monday morning. His head drops back against the arm of the sofa Darren’s pinning him to. “Then we would be over the three days out limit.” 

“So.” Darren pushes himself up, hands denting the cushion on either side of Chris’s head. He looks over at the digital clock display on the media setup. “It’s almost ten now. We have two hours.” 

Chris is surprised to realize it’s that late. He’s spent over half his day with Darren. He’s even more surprised he hasn’t had any annoying texts from any of his friends (well, fine, _either_ of his _two_ friends). 

“Two hours,” he murmurs. “Okay. Are we going to spend them on the couch?” 

Darren drops his face down to Chris’s neck. His stubble is scratchy where he mouths at the spot just above Chris’s collarbone. “Fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” 

“I’ll do one of those, not both.” Chris says. “And I’ll even give you a hint: no killing.” 

Darren springs up, actually managing to somehow use a hand on the back of the couch to propel himself over it. There’s a thump as he not-so-gracefully hits the ground and then his head pops back up, beaming at Chris. “Just so you know, my sheets are clean but my room is a mess.” 

“I don’t judge,” Chris says. 

Darren helps him up, then swings him around into another kiss before saying. “I think that’s a lie.” 

“Okay, I do judge, but you fed me ice cream and therefore I waive judging privileges.” 

“For how long?” 

“How about the next two hours?” Chris loops his arms around Darren’s neck. “Now, you mentioned something about clean sheets?” 

“Mhm?” Darren steps them backwards. 

“Good.” Chris pulls away. He doesn’t have to guess which room they’re headed for, since the door is already open. “Let’s see how dirty we can make them.” 

*

“So.” Darren’s breathing hard and smiling like he’s way too proud of himself, sprawled out naked where he just flopped down beside Chris. 

Chris is not going to analyze why he finds the little swirls of sweat-slicked chest hair so sexy right now. In fact, he’s not going to analyze anything at all right now, since that would take more brainpower than he feels capable of scraping up. 

“So,” Chris agrees, stretching himself out. One leg is slightly achy from being wrapped around Darren’s thigh for too long and he definitely feels one or two bruises taking shape, but… totally worth it. “Enough to hold you over for the next three days?” 

Darren laughs. “Actually, I think so. I mean, hell of a lot better than jerking off.” 

“Oh, I dunno,” Chris says. “I’d like to see you jerk off…” 

“You have unexpectedly dirty depths,” Darren comments, giving Chris an appreciative look. 

“If you think that’s dirty, prepare to be absolutely scandalized.” Chris wiggles his toes. 

“Do your worst.” Darren rolls over onto his side and props himself up with his chin against his palm. “Actually, I have a feeling that you’re fascinating all around.” 

“Why would you think that?” Chris turns so his posture matches Darren’s. He’s still in that stage of afterglow where being casually naked with someone isn’t quite weird yet. He expects that’ll kick in soon, but until then he’ll enjoy it. 

“I dunno. You just… you’re funny as hell, your mind can go some twisted places judging by what you write - and I like that. And the whole donating your babymaking stuff…” Darren says. “You tried to play it off before, but seriously. That’s an amazing thing to do for someone.” 

Chris shrugs. “Well, I’m doing it for two women that are… pretty amazing. And it doesn’t require much of me, really. Not in the long run. They’re also spending a lot of money for this, and they didn’t have a lot to begin with. It’s cheaper to go with someone you know.”

“Why the clinic, then?” Darren asks. 

Chris blanches. “I am not having sex with a woman. And I travel a lot, especially when I’m doing a book tour. The clinic will store my deposits and they’ll be able to do the IVF without me actually having to be around. When they need my, uh, stuff, also depends on Lauren’s treatment cycle. They wanted it to be both of theirs as much as they could, so it’ll be her egg and her wife carrying it.” 

“Oh. Shit. Well, that’s cool. And kind of makes sense.” Darren pauses. “So that was an intense reaction to sleeping with a woman. You’re hitting the hard end of the Kinsey scale, then? I’m more middle ground, myself.” 

“Oh,” Chris says. “Yeah. You did mention your ex was a girl before. That’s new for me though.” 

“What, never been with a bi dude before?” 

“No. I… don’t think so, at least.” Chris thinks about it. “I mean, my ex was with women before he actually came out but that was more of a pressured-by-family thing than genuine attraction. And, uh, pretend I didn’t just bring up my ex while we’re in bed together.” 

“Already forgotten. So you aren’t gonna be ‘the dad’ to the kid?” Darren asks. “Are you gonna be part of it’s life at all?” 

“In some way,” Chris says. “Non-creepy uncle is what I’m aiming for.”

“Those are the best kind,” Darren agrees. “You don’t think it’ll be weird to see a little you running around?” 

Chris shrugs. “Maybe it won’t look anything like me. But either way, I don’t want to be a dad. Do you? I mean, I could ask you the same thing, it doesn’t bother you that kids out there will be half yours biologically?”

“I try not to think about it.” Darren answers honestly. “But even when I do, it’s not the same - they’re not _my_ kids. I won’t even know they exist. They won’t know I exist besides anonymous donor information.” 

“Have you ever wanted kids yourself?” Chris asks. It’s a deep question, but he’s curious and it’s not like it isn’t on topic. 

“I had one girlfriend once,” Darren says. “It was pretty serious, I even thought about proposing. But I didn’t, so I guess that says something. And it was for the best. She ended up uh - well, that’s a long story, let’s just say she found someone else. I haven’t been with anyone else since then that made me think about future stuff. And now I’m going to shut up because I’m dangerously close to saying things that would probably freak you out.” 

Chris isn’t sure how to respond to that. “Like what?” 

“Like stuff involving how much I like you, but if we end up there I want it not to be because I’m cum-dumb and sleepy and, you know, not on our first date.” 

Chris laughs. “Okay. Yeah. That’s probably a better plan.” 

“Thought so.” Darren reaches out with his free hand and bops Chris on the nose. Chris reacts quickly, nipping at Darren’s finger with his teeth. “Can I at least say you’re gorgeous?” 

Chris rolls onto his stomach and presses his face into the pillow. “Shut up,” he says, voice muffled. 

Darren’s hand rubs firmly down his back, then up between his shoulderblades before Darren leans over. He ends up half on top of Chris, the bed bouncing from the sudden movement. He leans down and Chris can feel him half hard as Darren whispers, “You know, we still have fifteen minutes til it’s Friday…” 

“Well.” Chris turns his head to talk more clearly. “We better make the most of it.”

It’s 12:02 when Chris comes, whining Darren’s name and fucking into his fist, but… they both agree that no one really needs to know. 

*

He doesn’t get back to his own apartment until ten the next morning. Darren hadn’t been lying when he’d said he kept strange hours, and eventually Chris had to just wake him up to say he was leaving. 

Darren had worn the most adorable pout, and even made Chris promise to be at the show later before he let him leave. He’s pretty sure as soon as he was out the door Darren was asleep again, but Chris finds he actually likes it that way. No matter how good a time he had with Darren - both on the date and afterward - his apartment is his safe zone, where he goes back to to recharge and process experiences, and that’s definitely what he needs right now. 

But instead of peace and quiet (and an annoyed cat who missed his dinner) what Chris encounters is a tiny bundle of annoyance stretched out on his couch watching the latest Real Housewives marathon that Chris may or may not have set to DVR. It’s not like he couldn’t have watched it - he spends most of his time at home - but he just enjoys being able to binge watch bad television on his own time. 

“You!” She bolts upright, pointing the remote at him. “You did not come home.” 

“How do you know that?” Chris hangs his scarf up by the door. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, but she hadn’t seen him the day before. No matter what Julia says about Lauren’s ability to psychically read someone’s sex life, she can’t _know_. 

“Mr. Pissypants was being _nice_ to me.” 

As if on cue, Chris’s cat appears out of nowhere and starts to wind his way around Chris’s legs. He stoops and picks the cat up, kissing him on his forehead. “Oh, gee, how awful. Aren’t you always complaining that he’s too mean?” 

“Because bloodlust is his natural state. If he’s being nice to me, it means something is up - like he’s hungry. Like his pet human maybe didn’t come home last night.” Lauren crosses her legs. “So come tell mama all about it.” 

Chris thinks about protesting, just for the sake of being able to keep something to himself, but… sometimes it is nice to brag a little. “It’s the guy from the clinic, the one who gave me his number. We went out yesterday. It was… pretty fantastic. I ended up meeting some of his friends, they ordered pizza, and then afterward we went back to his place and made ice cream sundaes.” 

“We need to work on your euphemism skills,” Lauren says. 

“Not a euphemism,” Chris responds. “But after ice cream, we had sex.” 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Lauren sighs and leans forward. “Tell me all about it. Remind me what it’s like to have unencumbered casual relations.” 

“Gee, sound a little more enthused about the married life, why don’t you?” 

“Oh, shut up, you know I love being married. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Hell, she talked me into starting a _family_ with her, and am I really mother material?” Lauren’s smile goes a little funny, a little forced. 

Chris grabs her hands. “Of course you are.” 

She nods, and those nerves she keeps trying to hide shine right through. “Anyway. We’re talking about you, not me. Are you seeing him again?” 

“Tonight,” Chris says. “His friends are playing somewhere, probably a bar. He’s going to text me the information.” 

“Ooh, can I come?” 

“No. No way. Not this soon.” 

“Oh my god, seriously?” 

“You can’t come, _seriously_ -” 

“No, I mean, you just said ‘not this soon.’ As in… eventually? Wow, Chris, you really like this guy.” 

“It’s too early to really say,” Chris warns her. “But I think I might.” 

*

On Monday when Chris walks into the clinic again, he’s not surprised to see Darren there. The timing isn’t accidental; they arrived together. 

“Weirdest date ever,” Darren had announced, sipping his morning tea and picking apart a cinnamon roll to cram bites of it into his mouth. 

“Well, there’s food and in an hour there will be orgasms,” Chris says. 

“Hopefully, for me.” Darren licks some icing off of a finger, which isn’t at all distracting to Chris, nope, no way. “My first two were just, like, tester batches. If my swimmer dude count is high enough then I can start going for the gold. Or the cash, at least.” 

“Well… good luck?” Chris says. “Yeah, sorry, that’s weird.” 

“Casually discussing sperm count with a guy you’re seeing? Really? You don’t do that on every date?” Darren teases. “Well, I do like to think I bring something new to the game.” 

“More like you bring a whole different game,” Chris says. 

And for Chris, it’s true. The Friday night concert had been amazing, the Chinese they grabbed after even better, and yeah - they hadn’t been able to fool around again but… the delay just builds anticipation, Chris tells himself. 

He also tells himself that them agreeing to meet for breakfast and go into the clinic together wasn’t just for the sake of being able to jump straight in bed afterward. He and Darren haven’t broached after-donation plans, but Chris already knows that even if Darren asked him if he wanted to go grab a nice platonic not-coitally-related lunch Chris would say yes. 

“And is it a game you like?” Darren asks. “Maybe one you want to stick around to see the rest of?” 

“I get the feeling this is a metaphor.” Chris nudges his foot against Darren’s. “But I’m really not a fan of sports, so can we just speak not in code?”

Darren laughs, head tipped against the chair back. “Go out with me again.” 

Chris smiles widely. “Yeah. Okay.” 

*

They go out twice more that week and it’s just as good the second and third times around. 

The week after, Chris spends three nights in a row at Darren’s place. Their schedules are both so off-kilter that they can either be together non stop or they just don’t see each other for days, and the more time they spend together the more it becomes apparent which one of those they both prefer. 

He’s definitely never hit the overnight bag phase of a relationship within three weeks, but Darren just being Darren makes it infinitely less intimidating than it has potential to be. The relationship is gearing up for something more than casual, but they themselves and they as a unit together are still… casual. Relaxed. _Comfortable._

They just work well together. Personality wise, they’re different enough that they can bicker and debate things in a healthy way but similar enough that all their core passions and beliefs align. 

Darren isn’t afraid of Chris snapping at him, and Chris doesn’t hesitate to tell Darren when he needs to shut up. 

Darren’s friends admire how Chris handles him. Chris’s friends… 

… well, they haven’t met Darren yet, but according to Lauren that’s gonna change soon. 

He doesn’t realize how serious he is about it until Darren drops lunch plans into their phone conversation the morning of the day Chris is supposed to leave for Los Angeles to do a few spins on the media circuit to promote his newest book. His flight is at five pm, so he’ll have plenty of time for lunch at noon and then to head back to his place and pick up his luggage - especially with Darren giving him a ride. 

With every passing day, Chris discovers more and more perks to this still precariously labeled but blatantly evident boyfriend situation. 

“You want me to pick you up?” Darren asks. “We’re meeting them at twelve, right?” 

“What?” Chris has no idea what Darren is talking about. 

“Lunch… with your friends? You texted me last night?” 

“No, I didn’t-” Chris pulls his phone from his face and quickly checks his text log. “Oh, I am going to _kill_ Lauren-” 

“... uh. I’m lost.” 

“I’m sorry,” Chris says, immediately feeling bad. “Lauren texted you that invite, not me.” 

“Oh.” Darren’s voice drops. “So… are you… retracting her invite? I mean, I was kind of pumped you wanted me to meet them.” 

Suddenly, Chris feels like a jerk. He hadn’t even thought about how it would sound to Darren. “No, I’m not retracting it, it just caught me off guard. Of course I want you to meet them. Noon, and you got the address?” 

“Yeah, you texted it to me. Or, I guess, she did?” Darren laughs. “But yeah, I got it. And I’ll see you there? If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Chris reassures him. 

As soon as he’s off the phone with Darren, he calls Lauren. 

“Just a friendly reminder,” Lauren says as soon as she answers. “It would be very untoward to threaten the life of the person who will be potentially raising fifty percent of your DNA.” 

“I won’t threaten your life.” Chris’s voice is overly sweet. “But I can still get payback.” 

“You wouldn’t-” Lauren starts. 

“And I’m sure Julia would help me.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Wouldn’t I?” 

“... come on, Chris,” Lauren whines. “We just want to meet him, okay? It’s been a long time since you’ve been out with someone that made it past the first date. I want to see who made that magic happen.” 

“Fine,” Chris says. “But you are not allowed to tell him any embarrassing stories.” 

“Chris, you don’t _have_ embarrassing stories. I mean, besides the fact that sometimes when you walk into a bookstore women wet their panties. But that’s only embarrassing for you. Most people would just be jealous.” 

There’s a reason Chris doesn’t go in bookstores that often. “Noon,” Chris says. “Don’t be late.” 

*

Chris arrives first, ordering drinks for everyone as soon as he sits down. He’s on his phone checking in for his flight when Julia and Lauren arrive. 

They look exhilarated, holding hands and cuddled in close, laughing. Maybe it’s the flush of new romantic pursuits weakening Chris, but he actually thinks they’re adorable. They’re not usually that kind of couple, but trying to have a baby is bringing them closer to it. “Good news?” He asks. 

“We are officially synchronized,” Julia says. “And don’t worry, I know it’s TMI so that’s about as far into it as I’m actually going to go, but it means in a week we can move this whole process forward.” 

“That’s amazing!” Chris leans over and gives them both quick hugs. 

“So lover boy isn’t here yet?” Lauren asks, just as Darren walks in the door behind her. She must be able to tell from something on Chris’s face, because she mouths oh and then turns around- 

And stops, shock replacing that smirky look on her face. Chris realizes instantly something is going on here, because Darren is staring back at them with a similar look on his face. 

No, not them, Chris realizes. He’s staring past them… at Julia. 

“Darren,” Julia says softly, getting to her feet. 

“Darren,” Lauren echoes. “Wow. Been a while, man.” 

“Laur,” Darren says, and then steps forward to hug her. “It has.” 

“So… you guys know each other, I take it?” Chris asks. 

Julia recovers first. Chris knows her well enough to see the mask slip into place, that look she wears when she’s powering through a sticky situation and realizes that no one else is going to step up. “We do,” she says. “We all went to college together.” 

There’s obviously more to it than that, but Chris isn’t a masochist or a sadist so he isn’t going to pry…yet. What follows is the most awkward lunch he’s ever experienced, though. Darren and Julia don’t talk directly to each other much, but they keep sneaking looks at each other and Lauren looks about as uncomfortable over it as Chris feels. 

It doesn’t help that the discomfort mixes with dread because this… this doesn’t seem like a happy thing. 

There’s an intense look of relief on Julia’s face when her phone rings. She pushes back from the table with a quick, “I need to take this.” 

Lauren stands up immediately. “I’m just gonna go. Help her. With the phone. Um. Sometimes she forgets… oh, fuck it, I’ll be right back.” 

She steps quickly to keep up with Julia, who is outside the cafe now. 

Once she’s gone Chris freezes up. He can’t think of a thing to say. There’s tense silence for about thirty seconds before Darren lets out a ragged laugh. “Well, that’s a mindfuck.” 

“Apparently,” Chris says. “I wouldn’t know?” 

No, he’s not bitter, not at all. 

Darren winces. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot. Wow. This is weird. And these two are - this is who you’re donating for?” 

“Yeah,” Chris says. 

“Ouch.” Darren rubs a hand over his chest. “I’m not sure if it’s my dignity or my pride, but ow. My boyfriend is knocking up ex-girlfriend and the girl she left me for.” 

Chris is glad he hadn’t just taken a drink of water, because he’s pretty sure there would have been a high-comedic level spit take happening. “Wow. I. I didn’t know that.” 

“I know. I know you didn’t. I just…” Darren sighs again and rubs a hand over his face. “I need to get out of here, okay?” 

Chris is stunned. “Darren, I didn’t know.” 

“And I know you didn’t know, but I still need to get out of here.” He looks Chris right in the eye for the first time since they sat down. “Just give me a few days, all right? I’ll call you.” 

“I’m leaving this afternoon-” Chris starts to say, but Darren is already dropping a ten on the table and standing up. Chris can tell he isn’t really listening. He stops even trying and just quietly says, “Okay.” 

*

Lauren walks back in alone. “Julia left.” 

“So did Darren,” Chris says. 

Lauren laughs, rubbing her hands over her face. “Is this karma paying me back for stealing your phone last night?” 

“I think I just got dumped,” Chris says. 

“Oh, god. We’re a mess. Chris, honey, I’m so sorry. I mean - I knew his name was Darren, but I never thought… I didn’t even know he was still in town.” 

“So he… and Julia…?” Chris asks. 

Lauren sighs. “Yeah. Like I said before, we were all in college together. Julia and Darren dated off and on for about four years.” 

“But you and Julia…” All Chris has really heard of their history is that they met and fell in love in college. Apparently it was not quite as picturesque as it sounded. But then again, what is? 

“We were roommates,” Lauren says. “Just roommates, at first. But you know. Things happened. Feelings happened. Marriage happened.” 

“Darren didn’t take it well, I’m guessing?” 

“Honestly? Neither of them did,” Lauren says. “She _loved_ him. And he loved her. But they drove each other crazy too, and not in that fun way. When she finally told him about me and her, he kind of just dropped off the map. I know he went to LA for a while, and we have a lot of friends in common still so I heard he was in Chicago a few months back but Darren always liked to travel around so I guess… we never saw him, I figured he came and went.” 

“Apparently not,” Chris says, sounding just as hollow as he feels. 

*

“You look like shit,” his literary agent says when Chris steps into her office. 

He hadn’t left his hotel room the night before, but he may have overindulged on the mini bar and then treated himself to the most self-pitying Harry Potter marathon ever. 

At least until he remembered that Darren played Harry Potter in a musical once in college, and that Darren had told him it was still on YouTube somewhere. 

And then Chris had looked it up and - oh, yeah. _Lauren._ And Julia, too. Lauren even looked like she did when they first met, hair still a shade blonder. Chris thinks of Darren’s ‘ex that loved his books’ and then of how one of the first things he learned about Julia was that she had a shelf devoted to him. 

Then he had a few more drinks and proceeded into the most _pathetic_ Harry Potter musical viewing of his life and lamented over the fact that he couldn’t even text Darren how adorable he was with the long hair, because Darren probably didn’t even want to hear from him. 

So yeah. He’s not surprised he looks like shit.

Chris just shrugs. “Does it matter what I look like?” 

“Only for the cover photos,” Alla says, and proves that he made a good decision in hiring her by proceeding to talk about nothing except media appearances and contracts for the next in his series for the following two hours before getting to her feet and announcing, “Lunch time. Come on. I’m driving, and I’ll drop you at your hotel room after.” 

She takes him to a restaurant that makes the stiffest drinks she knows about, gives him just enough to stave his lingering hangover - or at least delay it a few more hours - and then listens to him while he tells her in bits and pieces about the latest dramas of his life.

It’s refreshing get it out of his own mind, in a way. Usually he relies on writing for that but writing means twisting his emotions into someone else’s story and right now he only has room for himself in his head. 

“This is hard,” she admits, once she’s heard the gritty details. “Because this is one of those situations where everyone is upset but no one did anything wrong.” 

He sighs. “I know.” 

“And no one is probably happy,” she continues. “You want someone to blame.” 

“But there is no one. Because… if I were Darren, I’d be upset, too. And if I were Julia, or Lauren - I’d have reacted how they reacted.” 

She pats his hand. “What do you think will happen now?” 

“I don’t know,” Chris says. “And I don’t think I even get a say in it.” 

“Oh, silly.” She pushes his drink toward him again. “You get one lunch like this, by the way. You don’t touch any more alcohol until you’re back home.” 

“What, worried about me developing a drinking problem? I mean, it would be very writerly.” 

“No, worried about you making an ass of yourself on the tv spot tomorrow,” she says. “Makeup can fix the bags under your eyes but no one can fix you tripping and breaking your nose.” 

“That was once!” Chris says. “And I was twenty two. I’ve matured since then. And I didn’t break my nose. I just thought I did. Because it hurt. Shut up, stop laughing at me. I’m in emotional turmoil.” 

“Right.” She gives him that calculating look that only she can pull off. “One lunch. And I’m paying. Now tell me more of your emotional turmoil, get it out of your system. Come on. And tell me about the guy! I want to hear how you melted into his embrace.”

“... are you just using me to stoke your fetish over two guys being together?” Chris accuses. 

“Maybe.” 

He laughs. “You are my favorite person right now.” 

She steals a sip of his drink. “I am your favorite person always. Now. Continue.”

*

Chris is only supposed to be in Los Angeles for four days, but he decides to extend his trip once he’s there. He rents a car and drives from Los Angeles up to Clovis, dropping in on his parents in a way he hasn’t done in years. 

He’s procrastinating and he knows but. He’s not the kind of guy to just let things sit and fester, and he hates not knowing what’s going on. As soon as he gets back to Chicago he’ll get in touch with Darren (if Darren hasn’t called him first, and Chris doubts he will) and ask if they’re over. 

But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to hear it out of Darren’s mouth, and not going back to Chicago just yet is the only way he can justify to himself leaving it up in the air. 

Lauren calls him a couple of times, but Chris is happier just pretending like Chicago doesn’t exist. He maintains this level of denial for seven days before impatience with his life and guilt over leaving his cat in the care of a pet-sitter who is well paid and trustworthy but not him. 

And he misses Darren. He misses Darren so much that after those six days that he knows delaying will just make it worse. He wants to figure this out, either so he can let go and mourn the potential of what could have been great, or… 

Well, he’s not sure what the alternative is, but he’ll face it head on. So on Saturday morning he hugs his family goodbye and gets back on a plane. 

*

Chris blames the poetic heart of a literary career man on the fact that he pulls a move straight from a bad romance and asks Darren to meet him at the place they had their first date. 

It doesn’t feel like it was less than a month ago, but it was. Their spots at the bar are taken but Chris finds a little table that offers a bit more privacy. 

Darren looks frazzled when he walks in. He has more stubble than last time and he looks like he hasn’t slept. It’s one in the afternoon, and Chris knows from experience that Darren operates on his own weird body clock, so there’s a good chance he actually hasn’t. “Chris, hey.” 

“I-” 

“Wait,” Darren says, holding up a hand. “Can I talk first?” 

Maybe this is going to be quicker than Chris thought. Maybe that’s not a good thing. 

Chris nods and sits back. “Okay.” 

“I’m a dick, and I’m sorry. Let me just get that out of the way first. I took off on you last week and I knew you were gonna be out of town but I just let you go with things all weird between us. That was me being an asshole and running away from a situation because I was freaked out, and that’s unfair to you.” Darren stops, looking at war with himself. “And I hope you aren’t here just to break up with me.” 

“I… figured you were here to break up with me,” Chris says, still wary. “What you said before you left… about your boyfriend knocking up-” 

Darren cringes. “You can… you don’t have to repeat it. I remember. And again, I direct you back to my first point: Me. Being a dick.” 

“I probably would have reacted the same way,” Chris says. “Especially if it’s someone I was still… hung up on?” 

It’s the only real conclusion Chris has been able to come to, but to his surprise Darren shakes his head. “I’m not. I mean, she was kind of my first serious relationship, so I guess as far as that goes she’ll always kind of be something, but I’m not hung up on her romantically. I probably would have even been excited if I hadn’t been blindsided by seeing them there. Me and Lauren used to be pretty good friends too, but when all that shit went down a lot of our friends kind of picked sides or just… made sure we were never all in the same place. I guess it turned into habit because it’s been like four years and they still do that. But… I was thinking, maybe it’s time to let that change. I mean… they’re in your life, and I want you in my life, so...” 

“Really?” Chris hardly dares to let himself believe it. It feels like the other shoe just hasn’t dropped. 

But Darren reaches across the table and grabs his hand. “If you’re still up for this, this whole thing we’re doing, yeah. Because I think it’s really good and I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” Chris is glad they’re in public because he’s pretty sure his refusal to have emotionally exuberant scenes in public places is the only thing keeping him from getting a little teary eyed from the surge of relief and happiness that hits him. He squeezes Darren’s hand tight. “I want to try and make this work.” 

“Then that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.” Darren leans across the table and cups the back of Chris’s head, kissing him firmly. 

 

**Seven Years (and Nine Months) Later**

“Do you have the presents?” Chris asks, getting out of the car. 

“All seven of them.” Darren’s voice emerges from behind a pile of brightly wrapped gifts. 

Chris laughs and grabs the couple off the top… the smaller ones, of course. What use is Darren if not for handling the heavy lifting? “Shut up, before you even say it, I did not go overboard.” 

“Babe… I hate to tell you…” Darren doesn’t even finish the sentence, just ends it with a chuckle. 

“You made it!” Lauren practically skips over to them. “You have got to check out the dinosaur cake. I outdid myself.” 

“So modest.” Chris hugs her. “But I bet it’s amazing.” 

“Amazing is an understatement.” Lauren ducks around Chris to give Darren a one-armed hug, then takes another present off the pile to help him out. “Hi there, Darebear. Uh, you guys realized you didn’t have to bring her an entire toy store, right?” 

“Where is she?” Chris asks, looking around. “I want to say hi.” 

“Me too!” Darren tries to look around the presents but even the ones he’s left carrying make it difficult. He grunts when he reaches the table with all the gifts and can finally put them down. “Oh hey, there she is.”

It takes him a second but amidst the swarm of kids he spots Julia and Lauren’s daughter dangling upside down on the jungle gym.

“Who’s that with her?” Chris asks as they make their way closer to the play area. They watch her jump down and a little boy whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle before she defiantly grabs his hand. 

“Oh, God, don’t ask.” Julia groans. She gives Chris and Darren both quick hugs, looking a little more stressed than Lauren. 

Chris gives Lauren a curious look. 

Lauren grins. “It’s her boyfriend.” She puts the last words in air quotes. 

“She’s in first grade,” Julia whines. 

But apparently Alice has decided she’s old enough to have a boyfriend and that’s just all there is to it. She’s got the determination of one mother and the attitude of the other, so there’s no stopping her once her mind is made up. 

The little boy doesn’t leave Alice’s side the entire day. As much as Julia and Lauren want to whine about her growing up too fast… Chris thinks it’s pretty damn cute. 

He also thinks there’s something about the boy that looks a little bit familiar. His eyes keep drawing back every few minutes. 

Something about those eyes. 

And the way his voice is the loudest when they sing happy birthday. 

It just… it reminds Chris of someone… actually, it reminds him of-

Chris almost trips. Darren catches him. “You okay, babe?” 

“Uh.” Chris looks at the little boy again, then shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.” 

“If you say so.” Darren grabs his hand, presumably to keep him upright. 

Chris looks from the boy to Darren again. 

What would the odds even be? 

It couldn’t be. 

… could it?

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on tumblr!](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/99782863755/bank-on-it-chris-darren-13k)


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